Living On A Razor Edge
by chichirichick
Summary: Look, the only reason why is this NC17 is for extensive description of self mutiliation. 1x33x1 pairing
1. It All Begins.

"Heero, please?" Quatre was looking at the Wing pilot sit back in his chair, staring with those deep blue pools he had for eyes.

"Hn."

"I'm begging now! Heero, please do this for me? For all of us? We're worried." It was true. After the war, all the pilots had felt this uneasy worry for Heero Yuy. They had all started to heal, some more quickly than others, except for Heero. He was still holding on tightly to his "perfect soldier" facade.

Heero blinked, slightly confused. They were worried? For what reason? They shouldn't care. They should just have left him be. "Why should I?"

"It's just one meeting, and you don't have to go again if you don't want to."

"Fine." Heero nodded gently to Quatre. He would do it for him... not because he really wanted to. And he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it if he didn't.

"Thank you, Heero! You won't regret it, I promise. But one more thing..."

"What?"

"You have to actually talk."

Heero growled. "Fine."

"I'm glad you've agreed, Heero." Quatre smiled happily. Trowa, Duo, and Wu Fei had sent Quatre in to do this, knowing he would be the only one who could talk anyone into something they didn't want to do. Also, it had been Quatre's idea in the first place. Quatre's idea to send Heero to a psychologist in some sad attempt to save what Heero had left of a mind, and a heart.

--

Heero walked over to the large brick complex. He sighed. How had he gotten himself into this mess? He knew that all the boys had sent the blond boy to get him to do this, knowing there was no other way. Staring at the piece of paper in his hand, he found the building to match it.

"Hey there."

"Hm?" Heero looked over at the voice that had called to him.

An electric blue haired girl sat on a bench, a cigarette stuck delicately between two of her fingers. "I said, hey there. Where you off to?"

"Hn." Heero continued walking up to the building, making his way up the two stairs to the door. He reached for the handle.

"Did you do that to yourself?"

Heero stopped. What was she talking about. "What?"

She pointed to his arm. Heero was clad a pair of jeans and his usual tank top. He usually didn't notice the scars on his arms from old missions, and had forgotten the huge gash that had formerly been there. "This?" He actually stopped to pay attention to the girl, and pointed to the scar.

"Yeah, that. It looks like it was pretty bad."

"...No..." He said quietly. Why did she even ask?

"I see," she gave him a soft smile, as if she didn't believe him. "I'm quite dangerous myself." She put out her cigarette on the arm of the bench and lifted her sleeve up to her elbow, revealing at least ten old scars littered on her arm. "It's okay, I understand."

Heero widened his eyes in disbelief. People actually did this to themselves? He found himself walking over to the girl, touching the scars gently. "You did this?"

"Uh huh." She nodded. "Why don't you sit down," she motioned towards the bench.

Heero stared at her for about two minutes, leaving silence between them. He had a meeting with that stupid psychologist or whatever Quatre had called it in about ten minutes... but it would probably be better just to talk to this girl rather than some stupid old man. Plus, he wanted to know about the scars. Heero finally took the seat next to her and turned to look at her, still staring.

"Thought you were going to stand there forever," she grinned. "Hi, I'm Winter, nice to meet you," she held out her hand, waiting for him to shake it, but he ignored it. "What's your name?"

"I don't have one." Heero replied coldly.

"All right," Winter continued to smile. "I don't need to know."

"Why did you do that... to your arm?" Heero murmured, still not sure why he was even talking to the girl, since he wasn't the one to talk.

Winter shrugged lightly. "A lot of things. Which one would you like to hear first?"

"Hn." Heero gave his regular reply.

"I hate myself," she said gently, almost to herself. "I cut myself to feel like I'm actually here, that I'm actually alive... and because I feel I deserve this kind of pain. Why do you do it?"

I hate myself... he thought. Everything she said was right, to him. But he didn't do that, he didn't hurt himself. "I don't do it."

"I don't care if you feel like lying to me, no name, but they won't let you get away without telling the truth, ya know?"

He felt like smiling for a moment... no name. Isn't that what they called Trowa? It felt nice to be called anything that had to do with him.

Winter nudged him. "What are you smiling about?" she laughed lightly. "You didn't seem like the smiling type to me."

He touched his lips gently. He was smiling... that was too odd. "I was thinking about some one."

"Can I ask who?"

"Trowa." He kicked himself internally. Why was he even bothering to tell this girl? She didn't need to know, and she probably didn't really care either! ...But it's not as if she knows him anyway. It's safe, with her.

"Who is this Trowa? Girl? Boy?" Winter pulled her legs underneath her, still smiling at him. Heero found it odd that she really wanted to know.

"Boy." He actually felt comfortable telling her about him.

"Okay," she smiled. "Friend? Boyfriend?"

Boyfriend?! Heero flipped out internally. Trowa? No! He wouldn't... no one would care about Heero that way. He sighed. "Neither."

"If you're smiling, he must be something," Winter probed.

"He is, to me. But to him, I'm nothing." Heero said quietly. "But no one cares like that."

"For you, you mean."

"Hn."

"So you like this guy, don't you?"

Heero stared at her. Why should he share that with anyone? And he didn't. He didn't. He couldn't love anyone. He was the perfect soldier. He wasn't capable of that. "Hn."

"You do!" She giggled lightly, making Heero frown. "What? It's obvious. I don't see why anyone else hasn't gotten you on this. You're not a very good liar you know."

"I don't. I don't care for anything." Heero replied coldly.

"Oh," Winter sat back a little. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"You're afraid of getting hurt."

"Stop it!" Heero stood up, a little shocked that he had ever raised his voice. Why was she pushing him? But again, why did he even tell her anything?

"I'm sorry." She said gently.

"I have to go." Heero walked back over to the door, opening it.

"I'll be here tomorrow, same time, if you'd like to talk again."

"I won't." Heero said quickly as he rushed through the door. "I don't want to talk about anything. Everything she said is wrong," he muttered as he walked through the hallway. "This is wrong."

--

Quatre was waiting right at the door. "How did it go?"

"Hn." Heero replied, throwing himself into a chair.

"Come on, Heero."

"It was fine." He replied quietly, not much more of an improvement from his last statement.

"Are you going to go again?"

"Maybe."

"You actually like it that much?" Quatre smiled. Maybe this was going to get through to him.

"I didn't like it. It was just... useful." Heero muttered, almost inaudible. He didn't want to admit it, but it hadn't gone that bad, even if he hadn't really talked to the man much.

Quatre smiled happily. "Why don't you go upstairs and tell Duo about it," Quatre motioned to the stairs, watching at Heero actually listened to his command. Quatre walked over, shouting up the stairs. "And I'm going to go see Trowa and talk to him! See you two later!"


	2. At the first sight of blood...

--

Heero could hear Quatre shout as he went up the stairs. Trowa? He was going to see Trowa? Heero almost didn't want to continue his walk up the stairs to see Duo, but instead he wanted to go with Quatre to see Trowa. Quatre always went to see Trowa. They actually were best friends. Unlike me, Quatre actually had friends, he thought.

"Hey there, Heero." Hey there. It reminded him of that girl.

"Hn."

Duo was sitting in his room, actually reading a book quietly. "How did it go?"

"How did what go?" Heero knew what he meant, but wanted to dance around the subject as much as possible. He really didn't want to discuss it again. As if he had really discussed it that much with Quatre, he scoffed at himself.

"The doctor."

He called it a doctor... it was a better name. Duo was "softening the blow" he guessed. "Fine."

"That's all? Did Quatre talk you into going again?"

"It was fine, and yes, that's all." Heero began to walk out of the room, planning on going back to his own. "And he didn't need to talk me into going again. I'm doing it on my own."

--

"Hey Quatre!" Catherine greeted Quatre happily. "You here for Trowa?"

"Hello! Yes, I am. Do you know where he is?"

"You might want to check the trailer."

"Thank you, Catherine. See you later!"

"Take care, Quatre."

Quatre walked over to the trailer, knocking on the door.

"Come in."

He slowly walked in, looking around for the tall ex-Heavy Arms pilot. "Hi, Trowa."

Trowa was sitting across the room a table, writing in a notebook. He quickly finished writing something and then shut it. "Hello, Quatre. What happened with Heero?"

Quatre smiled. That was the first thing he was hoping Trowa would ask. He was surprised... that Trowa hadn't accepted his invitation to live with all of them in the house, especially since he seemed to enjoy the wing pilot's company so much. Being as close to Trowa as he was, he could tell. But, Trowa never seemed to hint at it to anyone else, or even tell anyone that he was feeling anything. He seemed almost as bad as Heero. He was certainly the slowest healing, aside from Heero, that is.

"All he would tell me was that it was fine."

"Oh." Trowa wasn't sure if that was good or not, especially coming from Heero.

"But there's one good thing."

"What?"

"He actually agreed to going again, so it can't be that bad."

Trowa smiled gently. Quatre couldn't help but be a little shocked when he did. But, that was one of the first things Trowa had taught himself to do, smile. Quatre wondered if he had simply learned that to just cover up the other things he wasn't fixing. He wondered if maybe he should have considered the same thing for Trowa as he had for Heero. He could use it too.

"Quatre, will you stop worrying?"

"Hm?" Quatre laughed gently. Trowa could see right through him. "I will."

--

It had gotten dark, and all of the boys were finally home. Unlike the rest of them, Wu Fei hadn't ask that many questions, and Heero was sure that he wasn't going to anymore. He would find out all he needed to know from Quatre later. Wu Fei just hated pestering Heero, and he was thankful for that, in a way. Or, as thankful as he could be.

After going through twenty-question with Duo, Heero quickly locked himself in his room. He wasn't hungry, and wouldn't be probably until late tomorrow. Maybe he should just starve himself to death, since they wouldn't let him self detonate anymore. He sighed.

He opened the drawer to his desk, looking through it idly. His fingers suddenly grazed something cold, and he pushed some papers away, trying to see what is in there. Wedged in the back of the drawer was a small, shiny razorblade. He stared at it quietly, turning it over and over in his fingers. His thoughts ran back to the girl, Winter, and her scars. Was this what she did?

Without thinking, Heero placed the razor against his skin, just holding it there for a moment. He was contemplating it... contemplating what in God's name he was doing. But this was what he wanted, wasn't it? I mean, he felt the same way as she did... hating himself, not knowing for sure whether he was really here or not. He didn't feel at all... and he knew it. Maybe... this might help.

He dragged it slowly across his forearm. There was a little sting, but nothing more than that. It was hardly anything as far as pain went. He had felt much, much worse. He watched as small dots of blood appeared on the small red line. A smile pierced his lips... for once he actually enjoyed seeing himself bleed. But still... he hadn't hurt, not like he had thought she had described it. He put the razor there again, on the same place, and pushed harder, dragging it again.

The blood started to spill a little more easily. He did it again, and again, until it seemed deep enough to him. "This could probably use some stitches," he muttered, but he really didn't care. He took out the bandages from the same drawer, gently wrapping the white linen around the huge gash in his arm. It soaked through a couple of times, making him rewrap it, but he didn't care. It was blood. He was alive.

The razor was placed in his pocket now. He'd always keep it with him, he thought. Always.

--

"I thought you said you weren't coming back?"

Heero sat down on the bench, watching as Winter finished her cigarette. "Hn."

"Aren't you going to be late for your meeting?"

"It's in an half an hour."

"So you actually bothered to come early to talk to me?" She smirked. "Apparently you don't hate me as much as I thought you did."

"Hn."

"What's with the bandage?" Before Heero could answer, he watched as Winter put the cigarette out... on her arm. She had closed her eyes, exhaling one last bit of smoke. She opened her eyes and looked at him again. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. I've been doing it a lot lately."

He took her arm and looked at it. The circles were all over her forearm, from the cigarette burns. She smiled weakly. There were new cuts too, but not as bad as the one he did... the one on his arm.

"I didn't do it."

"Okay," she said quietly. "But you should really cover that up better. Here," she turned to the side, where her bag was sitting, and pulled a flannel shirt from inside of it. "Put this on so he won't notice when you go in. You'll actually have to explain if he sees it."

Heero took the shirt into his hands, slowly and cautiously putting it on. Why was she being so nice? It didn't matter... it was better that she had done this. He didn't want that doctor asking.

"Did you get it checked out at the hospital?"

"What?"

"The cut."

"No." He ran his hand over the bandage, still feeling it sting.

"How deep?"

Heero shrugged. "Probably a quarter of an inch."

She smirked. "You're much braver than I am. Or you have a higher tolerance for pain."

"I consider it neither. I'm just more worthless."

"You really believe that?"

"Life is cheap, especially mine." He turned to her and smiled. An odd, and rather disturbing smile. She just stared, unsure of a reply. Heero slowly got up and walked away, back into the building. He was sure she wouldn't want to speak to him again, after that.


	3. A visit to Trowa

--

"What in God's name are you wearing?" Duo pulled the back of the flannel shirt from where he was sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I'm not allowed to wear this now?" Heero stared at him vacantly.

"I just didn't think it was in your closet. I didn't think you had anything in your closet other than spandex, jeans, and tank tops."

"It's not mine."

"Who's is it?" Quatre joined in, overhearing the conversation from the kitchen table.

"None of your business." Heero said quietly.

"Must be his girlfriend's." Duo laughed, watching as Quatre joined in with a little chuckle.

Trowa walked through the backdoor, followed by Wu Fei. Heero looked over at Trowa, seeing him smiling and talking to Wu Fei. He was almost jealous of it all. Trowa would never do that with him.

"Nice of you to stop by, Trowa," Quatre turned around and smiled at the two.

"What are you guys doing?" Trowa asked.

"Just discussing Heero's girlfriend," Duo started to crack up again.

"Really?" Trowa seemed a little surprised, not catching on that Duo was joking.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Heero commented loudly.

"Oh, don't worry, Heero." Duo almost couldn't talk because of the laughter. "We all know you're just waiting for that special guy to come along."

They all laughed, including Trowa. Heero found himself rather angry, and walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs. "Heero! Come back!" Quatre yelled for him from the kitchen, but Heero ignored it. He didn't want to hear it. Duo was joking, but he was damn stupid. Heero didn't want anyone. He walked into his room and slammed the door shut, forgetting the lock it.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the razor. That odd smile came back over his face as he took off the flannel shirt, ready to make another slice in his arm. He jumped as he heard the door open. Heero turned around angrily. "Don't you even bother to knock?"

It was Trowa. Heero almost gasped. "I'm sorry, Heero." Trowa stared at him, seeing the razorblade in his hand, and the bandage on his forearm. It seemed a bit peculiar. 

"It's all right." Heero replied quietly, quickly placing the razor back into his pocket.

Trowa leaned against the wall, staring at Heero. "I just wanted to ask you if you were feeling any better lately, since you've been going."

"I don't know." Heero avoided his eyes. He didn't want to look at him at all.

"Quatre tells me that it's near the circus... where you're going that is."

Heero hadn't realized that. He shrugged. "Probably, if Quatre says so."

Trowa seemed a little uncomfortable, and cleared his throat. "Well, if you need some one to talk to afterwards, and don't want to go to Quatre, you can stop by."

Heero stared at the carpet. Had he really offered? "I will." Heero replied almost silently.

"Thank you." He could hear the door shut. Heero looked up, and Trowa was gone.

"I'd do anything for you, Trowa." He said to the room, sighing.

--

"Where are you going?" Wu Fei asked as Heero opened the backdoor.

"Meeting."

"I thought it wasn't until 8."

"8:30."

"Then why are you leaving now? You know it's only 7:30, don't you?"

"I know that very well." Heero walked the rest of the way out, slamming the door.

"Maybe Duo was right. Maybe he does have a girlfriend," Wu Fei chuckled to himself as he watched Heero walk through the backyard and out the side gate.

Heero kicked the gate open, finding himself a little mad. Fuck a little, he was very mad. This stupid therapy thing was messing with his mind... and making him feel more things than he wanted to. But the cutting was a comfort, he smiled. He couldn't remember how many times he'd done in that month. At least, he cut at about three times a week. What an addiction, he thought.

Winter had been one of the best people to talk to. The doctor wasn't wise at all about how he was feeling, but Winter knew everything. Maybe... was she his friend? He shook his head quickly, no, don't say that, it'll ruin it. Just like it'd ruin everything if you told Trowa how you feel like she keeps suggesting. That was the only thing she did not understand... his need to keep this all from Trowa.

His meeting was later than usual, but she had promised to be there anyway. She had said that she pretty much spent her whole life there, so it didn't matter. Heero could say that he did actually bother to put feeling into her. To be honest, he had actually worried about her. The cigarette burns on her arms were showing up more and more, making it appear as if she had some odd form of the chicken pox. He sighed.

He walked to the building to find the bench empty. "Winter?" He said loudly, hoping that she might have been standing some where near. No answer. Heero shrugged and sat on the bench, waiting for her. He stared at his watch... it was now about 8:15. He had been waiting for thirty minutes. Had she forgotten to come this late?

Heero walked into the office, stopping at the receptionist. "Do you know where Winter is?"

"Winter Stevens?"

"Yeah." He supposed that was her last name. She'd never mentioned it.

"I'm sorry, sir, but she's inpatient now."

"What?"

"She was checked into the hospital just today by her family after she had an accident."

"This hospital?"

"Yes, in the other part of the building."

"She's stuck in there?"

"I suppose you could say stuck. Sir, If you'd like to see her there's visiting hours from five to seven every weekday."

"Thank you." Heero walked away. She was in the hospital? That was unfair! Unfair to him and to her. It's her goddamn family's fault, he thought. He felt his hand ball into a fist and he wanted to punch it straight through the wall. Damnit!

Heero didn't mention it to the psychologist. The last thing he needed was to be told that she needed it. She didn't. So she hurts herself, that doesn't mean she needs to be locked up! Damn bastards didn't understand. The doctor could see the rage built up inside Heero, and questioned him about it. Heero played it cool and didn't tell him a thing about it at all.

He was out of there as soon as possible. The razor started to burn a hole in this pocket, and he took it out and played with it in his hand, knowing that he shouldn't risk cutting in public. For the first time in a while, he walked past the circus, stopping at the gate. Heero hopped it, and ran over to the trailer where he thought Trowa would be. He walked inside, not even knocking, finding the room empty and dark.

Heero slowly turned on the light. He had remember Trowa had told him before he was welcome to stay... so he sat at the table in the room, sitting back in the chair. It was completely pitch-black outside at that point, and Heero stopped staring out the window. He spotted a notebook next to him, seeing Trowa's writing on the outside. A journal?

Being the asshole that he thought he was, Heero opened the book and turned to an entry. He read it to himself, quietly. "I saw him with the razor in his hand. It makes me so suspicious, but I won't confront him about it. It's none of my business, he's none of my business, and he makes that obvious. He doesn't want anything to do with me, and that's why I won't tell him anything. I'll write it here instead, like I always have. I'm just afraid. Heero."

Why was his name at the bottom? Trowa knew... he knew it all. The anger flooded into Heero's mind again. He's acting as if it's wrong! It's not wrong at all. Fuck. And he's wrong, can't he see he's wrong? I want so much... I want him to have everything to do with me. I just wish he would see it.

Heero turned a page forward. "I had told him to come by after the meetings, if he wanted to. I fucked that one up horribly. I'm so damn desperate, and he doesn't care. After I closed the door I could hear him say something. I wanted to know. I wanted to go back in and tell him everything I've been keeping from him, but I know he wouldn't care. The worse of it all is that everyone's mentioning that he could have a girlfriend. That's who he's been going to see before meetings."

Heero slammed the book on the floor. She's not my fucking girlfriend. She's... Winter. I don't want to ruin it by saying friend. They all die, or leave, once their my friend. Suddenly, Heero jumped. A flash of lightening brightened the sky outside, and he could hear the thunder rumbling in the distance. Heero's chest tightened. God, I hate storms, he shuddered.


	4. Sad Realizations

And it looks as if Trowa's not coming back tonight, Heero sighed. He got up and turned off the lights, curling up on the bed. It smelled like Trowa, and he didn't mind. The journal was enough to say that Trowa really cared, but it was writing. I can't believe writing, Heero thought. He lay on his back, pulling out the razor. Another batch of thunder sounded, and Heero could feel himself begin to shake.

"Damnit," he whispered. He took the blade, clasping it tight in his fingers and sliced open his arm once again. He refrained from making it too deep. His shaking stopped, but only for a little. The pattern started, cut, stop shaking, rest, shake again. Heero followed it, making his arms a bloody mess before he stopped. The blood was dripping onto the sheets now. He curled up on his side, allowing it to flow easily.

He was shivering profusely now, almost deadly afraid of the storm. Suddenly the door opened, sending another jump through Heero's body. A figure stood in the door, soaking from the rain.

Trowa looked over at something shivering on the bed. What? Who? He walked to the door, not turning on the light. The lightening flashed and illuminated the curves of Heero's body, allowing Trowa to tell who it was. But the flash illuminated something else... the blood stained sheets, the razor lying idly on the stains. Trowa stared in disbelief for a few moments, taking in the shock.

Why did I do this? Heero thought. Maybe it was for Winter... or for Trowa. And he was standing there. I can't say anything, I can't move. I feel so inept, inept at life. Heero choked on a sob. I'm crying? No! I don't cry. But he couldn't stop it now, not matter how hard he tried. I just want to die, please, just let me bleed it all out now, please.

The shock had slowly left him. Trowa convinced himself that he'd seem a lot of blood before, especially Heero's blood after his self detonation attempts. It's not his first self inflicted accident, Trowa thought. But this is the first time he violently did it to himself... He walked over, stopping at counter, opening a drawer, and taking out some dressing for the wounds. He noticed his journal on the ground. What was it doing there?

He pushed the journal out of his mind, he needed to worry about Heero. Trowa walked over to the side of the bed, looking at Heero shiver and sob. He was crying? That was so unlike him... but he could just be softened up after the therapy, or his new breakdown. "Heero?" Trowa tried to touch him, but he violently hit his hand away.

"Don't fucking touch me!" What am I saying? I want him to touch me, I want him to comfort me. Please, Trowa, stop this all, please. "Don't touch me!" he screamed again, curling into a tighter ball.

"Stop it!" Trowa didn't understand why he had retorted like that. He should be gentle, but something told him Heero wasn't going to go along with him if he did that. "Give it up! You should have expect this when you bothered to come here." Trowa grabbed his arm tightly, pulling it out to see the wounds that were up and down Heero's arms.

"Let go!" Heero was still sobbing. He had been reduced to a little child.

"No!" Trowa saw all the blood and wanted to give up. He had to wash these, to get Heero ready for the bandages. He stood up, picking up Heero's built frame in his arms. Heero began to squirm and hit him, but Trowa didn't care. He'd take the abuse. Trowa carried him to the shower, and turned on the water. Without thinking, Trowa started to strip Heero down to his boxers. He didn't dare take those off, afraid of what Heero would think.

"Stop touching me! Give me back my clothes!" Heero was squirming on the bathroom floor, watching at Trowa took every last thing off of him except for his boxers. The blood had started to smear on the floor, and Heero was happy to see it. "Just let me die!"

Trowa stopped. "I won't!" Trowa snapped back at him. His hand formed into a fist, and he punched him hard in the jaw. Heero laid back on the floor, shocked that Trowa had hit him. He became immediately subdued, lying still on the floor. Trowa, seeing a good moment, picked him up again and hoisted him into the warm water. Heero didn't move, just stared blankly at Trowa.

God, I'm sorry, Heero, Trowa thought. He was kicking himself for even hitting Heero. Though it did calm him down, it still wasn't the right thing to do. He watched the blood run down the drain, and he cleaned off the rest of Heero's wounds, watching as he jerked from the pain. "Now, stay here for a minute." Trowa looked at him. Heero didn't nod, didn't reply, just stared blankly.

Trowa walked into the other room and took out some of his clothes. They'd be a little big, but they were better than the blood and wet one's that Heero had on now. But... how would I get him out the wet boxers? Trowa bit his lip. He walked back into the bathroom, finding Heero in the same position. Trowa turned off the water and gently slipped him out of the shower, drying him off with some towels. He took two medium sized towels and wrapped them around each arm, covering the wounds.

"I'm going to leave the room for five minutes. Here are clothes. Put them on, and don't do anything else. Do you hear me?" Heero nodded. Trowa stared at him sternly for a moment and then exited the bathroom, leaving Heero to change.

Heero struggled to get into the clothes. They were slightly large, but he didn't care. They smelled nice... just like Trowa. Like the sheets had. He stood there, clad in a pair of Trowa's boxers and a t-shirt. Heero wrapped his arms around himself for a moment, but then refused to let go. He almost wished it was Trowa. No I don't! Heero quickly retorted. I can't... he won't. Heero finished dressing and opened the door slowly, holding his towel-wrapped arms around himself.

Trowa stood there, shirtless. Heero almost gasped, staring at Trowa's completely perfect frame. Heero finally realized why he had taken it off... not for Heero's enjoyment, or to pose upon him, but to get out of the soaking wet closes that he had been in himself. Heero's shower struggle, and then the rain before that had soaked Trowa to the bone. Trowa turned around and saw Heero. He almost felt like he was going to blush. He thought that he would have finished getting changed before Heero did, but apparently not.

Heero walked over, dropped the towels to the floor. Trowa met him half way, bandages in hand. He gently took his arms in his hand, noticing Heero now refused to struggle. Trowa gently rinsed Heero's wounds out with bactine, hoping that it would stop any infection that was crawling through his slashes. He could see Heero's eyes narrow from the stinging, but he didn't say a word. The last step was the wrap the bandages gently around Heero's arms, and Trowa did so with amazing tenderness.

He stared at the clean bandages and almost smiled. They looked more appealing than the cuts. Heero looked over Trowa's shoulder, noticing that he had stripped the sheets from the bed and already put new ones on. The bloody ones lie on the floor in a heap. Heero felt overly exhausted and felt his head bobbing down, almost as if he was going to fall asleep.

Trowa saw him lean in and held his breath. Oh, Heero... he thought. He felt himself loosing some control, not too sure of what he was really doing. Trowa gently pressed his lips against Heero's, awaking the tortured pilot completely. Heero was just about to let go, when he heard the thunder strike again. The shaking came back, and so did the urge to cut to stop it. With what little strength he had left, Heero pushed Trowa away. "Don't touch me! I hate you!"

Heero's push hadn't been much at all, and Trowa hardly swaggered at all. The real thing that made him swagger was the words that came from Heero's mouth. He didn't mean it... he couldn't... but Trowa knew it was true. He does hate me... God, I've fucked this all up for the last time. Trowa then saw how he was shaking violently again... and saw him twitch as the storm outside continued to wail away. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

Heero could hear Winter's words in his head. I am afraid of getting hurt, but I won't admit it! I just can't get hurt ever again. I can't. Trowa quickly pulled Heero over to the bed, sex the farthest thing from his mind. He wanted to get him to stop shaking, and to make sure that he wasn't going to hurt himself again, at least tonight. "I said stop fucking touching me! Don't you understand? I hate you! I hate you!"

"I know, I know." Trowa said quietly. He pushed Heero onto the bed, watching him struggle and shake from the fear and frustration.

Heero had finally stopped yelling. "I hate you. I hate you, Trowa."

The addition of his name to the statement hadn't helped Trowa much at all. He slowly laid on the bed, pulling Heero onto his chest. He held him tightly to him, pressing his body firmly against his own. Heero tried to struggle, but found he couldn't. His shaking slowly and effortlessly stopped, giving Heero a sudden sense of comfort. "I hate you, Trowa," he murmured.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Heero." Trowa sighed. "Because I love you." There, he had said it, and knew the rejection that he was going to get. He had fucked up the last time, but he was glad he had. He couldn't live with the doubt anymore, and now he knew, finally.

Heero's eyes widened. He loves me? Trowa's words had gone from paper to coming directly from his mouth... and Heero almost couldn't believe it. "Oh, Trowa!" Heero turned over in Trowa's strong hold, pressing his face gently against Trowa's bare chest. He let the sobs rattle in his chest, and the tears delicately drip onto Trowa's chest.

"Shh," Trowa cradled him, attempting to relieve his pain in some way. "It'll all be okay."


	5. Final Resolution

--

"I'm here to see Winter Stevens."

"Please sign your name in here." The man at the desk pointed to a white clipboard.

Heero quickly picked up the pen, but stared at the paper. He still wasn't sure exactly what he should call himself. He finally signed Heero Yuy in a spot on the list and handed the clip board back to the man. "There."

"Thank you, Mr. Yuy. You can go through those doors right there and I'll have her in to meet you in a few moments." He directed Heero to two large white doors.

Heero quickly made his way through them both, seeing a whole bunch of tables with people scattered here and there, chit-chatting. He picked an empty table and sat there, watching the doors on the opposite side of the room. Suddenly the doors opened the Winter stood there, looking aimlessly around the room. "No name!" she greeted him happily, rushing over to the table.

"It's nice to see you, Winter." He actually attempted to make a real smile, and she grinned.

"What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"I missed talking to you," he said quietly.

"Same here. The social life isn't that great around here." Winter sat down across from him and smiled, gently staring at him.

"Are they treating you alright?"

"Worried about me, are you?" She smirked.

"Hn."

"I think I should be more worried about you."

"Why?"

She gently picked up Heero's arm, pulling the sleeve up. The bandages were there, clean and white. "You're following my dark and dirty path there, no name."

"I'm going to stop."

"That's what I said, and look where it got me."

"Hn."

"Who cleaned you up?"

"I did it myself."

She scoffed. "Of course you didn't."

"Trowa."

"Oh, the infamous Trowa." She smiled. "Well, big boy, he does care."

"He does." Heero actually smiled. "I said I hated him about a million times and he still managed to choke out that he loves me more than anything."

"Are you serious?" Winter let a laugh escape her. "Sounds like a goddamn romance novel."

"Hn."

"Well, then you have no reason to do this anymore." She ran her fingers over the bandages. Heero gently took her hand, and she smiled.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you did it because you hated yourself, and no one cared. Trowa cared, and if Trowa cares for you I know personally that you now can't hate yourself."

"Then you don't have any reason to do it anymore, either."

"And why say that, Mr. no name?" She grinned.

"Because I care for you, and when some one really cares you can't hate yourself. Some one smart told me that once, you better listen to it."

"You?"

"Like a... sister, Winter."

"The same goes for you, no name." Heero stood up, pulling her up with him. He held her, almost shocked at himself for even caring at all. She nuzzled her face into his shirt. "Thank you, no name."

"Heero Yuy."

"What?"

"My name. It's Heero Yuy."

"Thank you then, Heero."

"Anything for a sister, Winter."

--

Heero slowly walked out of the clinic, an odd smile of contentment on his face. For all he knew, that was his last therapy session ever, because he'd never go back again. The cuts were slowly healing, slow at all hell, but he didn't care. He had thrown away the blade, just like he had thrown away his own humanity so many times... but he would no longer do that.

Her walked back into the house, the house that all of the Gundam boys, minus Trowa, lived. Quatre was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, reading some paper or book. Heero knew all that Quatre was really doing was waiting for him. He walked through the door. "Hello, Quatre," he said softly.

Quatre turned with surprise on his face. "Heero! How did it go?"

"Fine, as usual." He smirked.

"You still won't extend on the explanation?" Quatre sighed.

"I've finished it. The doctor said I'm fine, and Winter will be out of the hospital in a couple of days." He had gone back about as many times as he could to see Winter.

"Winter?"

"I'll tell you later, Quatre." Heero started for the stairs, but stopped. "Can I ask one thing?"

"Always."

"Quatre... once she gets out, can she stay in the guest house for a little while?"

"I don't see why not."

"Thank you." Heero continued up the stairs and up to his bedroom. Duo had come bounding out of his room in attempts to waylay Heero from finally reaching the comforts of his room. Heero just continued though the hallway and ignored him, locking his door tightly behind him.

He stared about the room, watching the sunlight glistening everywhere. It was strange to see that, in Heero Yuy's room. He walked over to the window sill, finding a familiar notebook sitting on the edge. He opened it to the last page, reading it to himself quietly. "The blades gone, his fears are gone, and so is the wall that he's built around himself. That girl, Winter I think her name is, is coming home soon. He talks about her constantly. He's even admitted his feelings for her to her face."

It continued. "And I've said I love you to Heero, while he was yelling and screaming, but I haven't repeated it since. And no, we really haven't talked at all since it, and it makes me wonder if it's because he's uncomfortable with it, or if he just doesn't believe it, as always. He still has yet to mention any feelings for me. But then again, I don't care. If he doesn't feel anything for me... well, I just don't care. I'll do anything to see him happy, even if it means giving up my own. So I'll write it here, since I probably won't have the chance to say it aloud to him again. Heero, I love you."

He didn't know whether or not he wanted to cry... or whether the urge to find Trowa was greater. Heero pushed his hand against the window, contemplating it all. The breath caught in his throat as he felt some one's arms encircle his waist, a head gently tucking itself between his neck and shoulder. "And I mean it, Heero, I really do love you."

Once again, he had read it and now the words were echoing through his head. "Trowa, I'm sorry. I really don't hate you. Trowa, I..." He stopped for a moment, shutting his eyes, remembering all the things, all the things he'd learned. "I love you, too."


End file.
